


Swords and Shields

by Tokyo_the_Glaive



Series: Tumblr Shorts [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 17:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6575980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tokyo_the_Glaive/pseuds/Tokyo_the_Glaive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Protect Eliwood.</p><p>After their first visit to the Dread Isle, it's one of the only clear thoughts in Hector's head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swords and Shields

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Aurumite, Eliwood centric.

Fargus was waiting, as promised, when it came time to set sail.  He welcomed Eliwood's army aboard and set sail as fast as humanly possible.  Rather than ask questions, Fargus took one look at the faces of the surviving members of the landing party and made himself scarce. **  
**

For that, if nothing else, Hector was grateful.  They barely had enough rations to make it to Badon, and morale was at an all-time low, but at the very least, they had no one demanding a full explanation of what had happened.  If Fargus had asked, Hector might have put a hole in the ship, and even Hector knew that Fargus’ hospitality only stretched so far.

He was just so _angry_.

There were two people buried on the Dread Isle now– _good people_.  They had deserved better.  The ones who survived them, who had cared for them and loved them, they deserved better, too.

Rather like Fargus, Matthew had made himself scarce as soon as they left land.  Hector knew he was aboard somewhere.  He joined them for meals sometimes, but generally kept to himself.  If Oswin or Serra saw him any more than Hector did, they didn’t say.

Eliwood was a rather different case.

Hector knew exactly where to find him every day.  Without fail, Eliwood would be on deck, day or night.  Hector wasn’t sure if he was sleeping at all anymore, or if the nightmares that had plagued him on the road back from the Dragon’s Gate continued to keep him awake.

That first night, following Elbert’s death, Eliwood had woken screaming.  Horribly, Hector hadn’t noticed, not at first: the trees and the darkness on the Dread Isle tended to dampen rather than amplify sounds.  Lyn had gone to Eliwood’s side and had done what she could to soothe him, but he was inconsolable.  He called to his father, to his mother, to the knights who had disappeared–all in vain.  When he realized what was happening, Hector stood at the mouth of Eliwood's tent, facing the army as they slowly came to see what the matter was.  He held his axe before him in a silent dare.  All who had come to gawp ran soon after laying eyes on the vicious weapon.  Lucius, Serra, and Priscilla remained, and with the help of their magic, Eliwood slept.

“I’m sorry,” Eliwood said the next day.  He hadn’t met Hector’s eyes, but Hector could see the enormous dark circles under his eyes and his sallow skin.  Hector wondered if one could die from grief.

“No need to apologize,” Hector said.  He’d looked to Lyn for advice–wasn’t she supposed to know how to be comforting?–but she just shrugged.  “I’m sorry,” Hector said.

Eliwood gave a weak smile, and Hector knew that nothing he could say would help.

Now, aboard Fargus’ ship, Eliwood looked much the same.  He’d been seasick early on, but even after he looked green and ill.  That didn’t stop him, though: he still went through motions.  Hector would be blind not to notice how Eliwood checked the tackle every day without fail.  He repaired the sails twice, and he once got halfway through swabbing the deck before Fargus got someone to take his place.  Eliwood couldn’t be deterred.  He mended many of the ropes and cables, helped secure the ship’s ammunition during a small squall, and finally, possibly because one of the crew took pity on him, was finally given a role as a lookout, up high in the crow’s nest.

(The crew all loved Eliwood.  They gave him jobs when they could and spoke highly of him–as highly as pirates can, at any rate.  Hector wasn’t surprised.  Eliwood was kind, gentle, and openly warm.  He worked hard and expected nothing in return but another task.  Who wouldn’t love Eliwood?)

Hector understood that Eliwood was trying to keep busy.  When their parents had died, he’d seen his own brother do much the same, admittedly within the confines of a castle as opposed to a pirate vessel.  Hector had been too young to fully understand, but…

Seeing Eliwood like that, it made Hector furious.  Elbert was dead, and short of necromancy, there was nothing that could be done.  (If Hector thought that raising the dead could help, he would have learned that fell art as soon as he was able.)  There was no way to help Eliwood except to give him time and space, and Hector couldn’t be satisfied with that.  Someone had stolen Eliwood’s father.  They would _pay_.

* * *

Lyn understood.

She wasn’t much of a lady–Hector had learned the hard way not to say it to her face–and she had no idea how to do most feminine things, but she understood Hector’s anger.  She’d lost her tribe, so she knew grief, and she, too, cared for Eliwood.  She saw him suffer and suffered with him, but it was her rage that resonated best with Hector.

They took out their anger at the injustices they had faced and would continue to face in practice matches that sometimes drew the attention of the crew.  Lyn usually won, with her superior speed and fast, furious lashes.  Hector fought without his armor to try to match her, but it was no use.  He liked to say that he was holding back, that as the stronger fighter he’d win in a real fight, but the truth was, even with blunted practice weapons that left bruises as opposed to cuts, neither Hector nor Lyn held anything back.  There was too much behind them, too much ahead.  Unspoken, they knew that Eliwood counted on them to be in top form when he could not be.

At night, Hector and Lyn conferred.  They had almost the same conversation every night: what to do about Eliwood.

“I guess there’s nothing to do,” Hector would grumble.

“He hasn’t slept,” Lyn would say.

“Hasn’t slept? He won’t eat,” Hector would add.

Back and forth, the same things, every night.  Eliwood wasn’t improving.  His skin remained pale, almost hanging off of him, and he grew thin.  He lost no muscle mass, not from all of the work he did on deck, but something in him seemed to have died.  Neither Hector nor Lyn expected him to bounce back from his father’s death, but it still hurt.

* * *

They landed in Badon at long last with empty bellies and eyes sick of the sea.

Lyn leapt for shore before they even docked, eager to be off of the ship.  The water slipped over her skin, but if the crew had anything lewd to say about the display, they kept it to themselves.  Lyn had more than earned the respect of the pirates, for all that they hadn’t earned hers.  Hector didn’t jump in the water, but he disembarked soon after, eager to be on land, away from the sway and churl of the sea.

“I’ll be at the inn, milord,” was the only warning Hector had before Matthew sped off in a swirl of red.  Since he so obviously didn’t want to be followed, Hector left him alone.

“Where’s Eliwood?” Hector asked instead, scanning the docks for that dash of red hair.

“Up there, with Fargus,” Lyn said, gesturing at the ship.  She was soaked, her hair plastered to her back, but she looked more alive than she had in weeks. Hector squinted against the sun to follow Lyn’s finger: his friend was indeed still aboard the ship and speaking with the captain.  Compared to Fargus, Eliwood looked small, almost like a child.  Fargus laid a hand on Eliwood’s shoulder and said something.  Eliwood nodded and slowly disembarked.  Hector and Lyn shared a look.

“What do you think that was about?” Hector asked.  Lyn just shrugged, wringing out her hair.  Eliwood had spent more time with Fargus and the crew than he had with any of his friends since leaving that horrible island.

“What do we do?” Hector asked.  He hated the horrible softness of his own voice.  He wanted to take an axe to the crates that lined the docks, to spill their contents into the sea and let them bob away.  He wanted to take the memory of Elbert and completely destroy it, so that Eliwood remembered nothing and knew no pain.  He wouldn’t know the memory of a loving father, but then Hector had only ever had Uther.  (In the back of his mind, Hector knew that Eliwood was different.  They’ve always been different.  Hector was a warrior, Eliwood a diplomat.  That was always the problem.)

Lyn shook her head.  “There’s nothing we can do,” she said.  “He needs to come to terms with this himself.”

Hector knew it to be true, but it didn’t make it any easier.

* * *

When Nils sensed enemies creeping through the dark that night, Hector was almost glad.  He looked to Lyn.

“Eliwood deserves a little more time to rest,” Hector said.  He wasn’t sure how to lace his voice with suggestion the way Uther could, or even Matthew, but Lyn understood.

“Well then, we’ll handle this ourselves, shall we?” she said.

Of course, Eliwood would have none of that, not that Hector had expected him to.  He caught Lyn’s eye before the battle began in earnest.  Eliwood’s hands weren’t shaking, and he had a new resolve in his eyes, but his skin was still pale, and the bags under his eyes made him look more skeleton than man.

 _Protect him_ , Hector thought.  As if she could read minds, Lyn nodded.

They both would.  That night, though Eliwood fought, it was Hector and Lyn who cleared the ranks.  They fought side-by-side, axes and swords glinting in the wan moonlight.  There were others, of course.  Hector caught a glimpse of a red cloak in the night, felling warriors from the safety of the shadows.  It was all Hector could do to keep abreast of Lyn, though.  His blood sang with the fight–finally, a way to release all of his anger.

By the end of the night, not a single mercenary was left standing.  Hector helped pile the bodies to burn just outside of town.  Lyn had gone swimming; Hector had fought a small army.  Amazing how they could each lead to the same thing.

* * *

“You two seem to get along better,” Eliwood remarked.  It had been some time since they’d left Badon.  Fargus’ ship wasn’t so distant a memory, however.  “But can you try to go a little easier next time?  I’m afraid you’ll get yourselves killed.”

Eliwood had finally noticed: battle after battle, and Lyn and Hector had thrown themselves against the enemy front lines as if their lives depended on it.  They hadn’t said so much, but they each knew: _protect Eliwood_.  He’d suffered enough.  They all had, but it was Eliwood.  He didn’t deserve to have his life ended abruptly on the battlefield.

“I can’t lose either of you,” Eliwood admitted quietly.

“Do you think we’ll lose?” Hector boasted in lieu of answering.  The heft of Armads hung at his hip.  He hadn’t told Eliwood a thing about acquiring it.  Lyn and Matthew had been the ones to accompany him into the darkness of the trial, and Hector had made them each promise not to say a word about what had transpired.

“I can’t lose either of you,” Eliwood repeated.  “Promise me you’ll take more care.”

Hector and Lyn exchanged a look.

“We promise to try,” Lyn said, “for your sake, at least.”

Hector just nodded.  Eliwood wasn’t satisfied, but then again, the truth would only have upset him further.  Hector said a prayer to whatever gods there were that he not die in this war, that Armads not extract its bloody toll just yet–just until Eliwood was safe.  It wouldn’t matter after that.


End file.
